


Only In Dreams

by belle_the_reylo



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Inappropriate Use of the Force, POV Rey (Star Wars), Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Rey Needs A Hug, Soft Ben Solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22059442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belle_the_reylo/pseuds/belle_the_reylo
Summary: A few months after the Battle of Crait, Rey tries to sleep after another devastating Resistance loss. That's when her Force Bond with Supreme Leader Kylo Ren connects.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 19
Kudos: 200





	Only In Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading!
> 
> Well, I've been a die-hard Reylo since The Last Jedi and I couldn't keep myself away from the fanfic game after TROS. This is the first piece of fic I wrote and brace yourself for LOTS more in the future. I'm so excited to start to write (and read) Reylo fic.
> 
> I posted this on Tumblr a few months back, you can find me @ belletheclosetreylo if you're interested :) Hope you enjoy!

She felt him again.

It was nothing new: this feeling of a new presence slowly materializing behind her. It had been happening since Crait. Once, twice, three times a week. Sometimes it wouldn't happen for a while, three days, two weeks and she'd start to hope—and dread—that this inexplicable connection had finally been severed. But he always came back.

At first she had refused to acknowledge him. Ignored him in stony silence. Then she had started to yell at him. Then the sulky silence again. And then she had started to talk to him—talk, not shout. Speak in lowered tones. Try to grasp why he'd done what he did, reach some kind of acceptance about it. If he was going to be here all the time, circumstances would improve tenfold if the awkward silence or throat-aching yelling was replaced by some sort of understanding. Maybe it would even turn into closure that would resolve all the . . . issues between them and cut off the bond. That's what she told herself. Really, she simply lost the resolve not to talk to him.

He'd responded to their continued connection in a very muted and almost . . . deferential fashion. Apart from the first one after Crait, when he had spoken her name once in surprise, he hadn't uttered another word every time she'd decided to give him the silent treatment. He too went about whatever Supreme Leader business he had to do while ignoring her. When she'd yelled at him, he responded in the barest of answers. It befuddled her to no end how calm he always was with her. Lowered voice, cool tone. Except that one time in the throne room . . . but to be fair, both of their emotions were frayed and on edge then.

When she'd started talking to him, he reciprocated instantly. He answered every question she asked quickly and honestly—no matter how brutal said honesty might be. Some of his answers made her cringe, but he never flinched in the face of her repulsion . . . or disappointment. A sort of pattern had developed between them: he'd appear, she would awkwardly acknowledge him, speak to him about two or three things varying greatly in importance ("Why couldn't you leave the throne room with me?" "Did you fix that leak in your TIE’s fuel tank?”), then he'd disappear again. She started being less openly disapproving of him and his already low voice became softer and softer.

After one particularly taxing day of having to abandon the new Resistance base after First Order operatives discovered their location, she lay rolled up in a mass of ratty blankets by the gunner's seat on the Millennium Falcon. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Staring at the infinity of space out the window, she felt absolutely crushed. After finally getting settled on Takodana, the Resistance had to pack up everything and escape, all crowded on the Falcon again. Back at square one. In that moment, she felt so hopeless.

In that moment, he had shown up behind her. 

She felt him lying beside her and stiffened. She felt him freeze in a similar manner: this arrangement was as unexpected to him as it was to her. Not being in a collected enough state when he'd shown up, she was unable to stop a sob escape her shaking body. The sound echoed around the small space and three more tears dashed down her cheek.

"Rey."

His voice was deep and warm, filling the cold space around them. He hesitantly placed a hand on her arm, but Rey quickly shrugged him off, as her heart beat a bit faster at the touch of his hand on her arm. 

"This is your fault," she growled accusingly, her voice raw from crying. "You sent those people after us."

"It's not my fault you choose to associate with those who I make it plain I intend to destroy," Ben Solo—Kylo Ren replied in a stony voice.

Rey scoffed and pulled farther away from him, clutching her blankets closer to her chin. 

"Rey," Kylo repeated her name, his voice softer this time. "It doesn't have to be this way. All you have to do is leave the Resistance and you won't have to feel this pain anymore—"

Rey spun around and sat up, facing Kylo. "My pain—This pain is your—" she blinked as she cut off, realizing that Kylo wasn't wearing a shirt . . . again. And this time he was a maximum of ten inches away from her. ". . .fault," she finished feebly. 

Rey redirected her eyes back at Kylo’s face, which was expressionless and watching hers. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be feeling this pain," she continued, her anger building up again. She was completely disregarding the "shouting has no effect on him and gets you nowhere" mentality but she didn't care. "You realize you are the cause of all my suffering, right? You could end it all with a snap of your fingers if you gave a damn about me. So don't sit there and pretend you care about me because you clearly don't." She took a deep breath and turned away from him. "I hate you," she whispered, the stars out the window blurring through a cloud of tears.

Kylo was silent for a moment, the meaning of her words washing over him. Rey couldn't bring herself to look at him. Coward, she chided herself. 

"You don't mean that," he finally said. He said it like a fact. 

"Oh I think I do," she half-laughed, half-sobbed. 

"No, you don't," he repeated, still more firmly. "Look me in the eyes and say it."

Rey dared to peek at Kylo out of the corner of her eye. He was looking at her intently.

"Say it," he urged her, brown eyes still intense. "Say it."

Not even bothering to pretend that she could look into Ben Solo's warm brown eyes and tell him she hated him, Rey simply glared at him.

Kylo shook his head, his annoyance emitting off of him. "See? You're still doing it; you're still lying to yourself," he said. "I thought you were past that, Rey. Lying to yourself. It gets you nowhere; absolutely nowhere. First with your parents, now with the Resistance. You don't care about their cause. Not really. You're so desperate for a sense of belonging that you're dedicating yourself to the first thing that comes along. But you can't lie to yourself forever, Rey. You’ll have to face what you've been hiding from eventually."

Rey looked away from Kylo. As much as she hated to admit it, he had a point. She lied to herself all the time. About her parents and now how she felt about Ben . . . and maybe there was some ounce of truth in what he had said about the Resistance. 

Annoyed at his perception and in no mood to enter a bout of self reflection, Rey irritably spat, "Rich words from you. I'd ask you to put a shirt on, but if memory serves me correctly, you seem to ignore those kinds of requests." Her tone was bitterly sarcastic. 

To her surprise, Kylo reached behind him and grabbed a thin black (of course) shirt and shrugged it on. Rey's eyes fell to his naked side as he adjusted the material around his body and identified the disfigured patch of skin Chewbacca's bowcaster had given Kylo after he’d killed his father. Her eyes flew up his body to his face and found the long, thin scar that ran down his face onto his upper chest. The scar she had given him with his family's lightsaber. 

A surge of guilt overcame Rey. She shouldn't feel that way; she had been defending herself. She had been completely justified in taking that blow. But still. . . 

Tears fogged up her eyes again. This was all too complicated. Her relationship with Ben—Kylo. She should hate him, but she didn't. She might even feel something more than tolerance for him and she had no idea why . . .

The tears escaping her eyes hadn't escaped Kylo's notice. To Rey's utter astonishment, he reached his hand out and wiped a tear away from under her eye. 

The shock of his bare hand on her face vibrated through Rey. She stared at him with wide eyes, stunned at his movement.

His previously hard face was kind and his eyes were soft. "Don't cry," he whispered. His hand moved away from her wet cheek to caress the side of her face. 

Rey felt like a firework show was going off inside her stomach. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Kylo's and he was staring deep into hers. Was he crying too?

Kylo gently stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "Don't cry," he repeated himself in an even lower voice, if that was possible. Kylo swallowed. "You're not alone," he croaked. His voice was broken—vulnerable—as he attempted to comfort her by echoing the words he had spoken to her in perhaps one of her lowest times. The words that had lifted her out of a feeling of complete isolation into a crystal clear realization. 

"Neither are you," she quietly answered him and maybe that was the whole point of their bond. So neither of them would ever have to be alone again.

Perhaps realizing the enormity of his touching her face, Kylo's hand left Rey's face and awkwardly fell to his side. His expression was confused, as though he was unsure of how to follow up that action.

Rey was having none of that.

She let go of her grasp on the blankets wrapped around her and slowly reached her hand out to Kylo. The blankets fell into a heap around her knees. Like she had just slipped off a dress, the unbidden thought rose to Rey's mind. Ignoring the vivid comparison, Rey calmly let her hand move closer and closer to Kylo's face. 

Kylo looked surprised at her reaching out to him and slightly uncomfortable, but Rey let her confidence guide her. At last her steady hand made contact with the thin scar on Kylo's face, directly under his right eye.

Kylo's eye twitched at the same time that Rey let out a soft gasp. The scar felt rough under her thumb. The fact that it was her who had put it there awed Rey. She had done this: left an actual mark on Kylo. Fascinated, she slowly traced the scar down his face with her fingers.

Kylo closed his eyes and opened his lips the slightest bit, letting out a sigh of contentment that might have been her name. 

Liking the way Kylo's reaction made her feel, Rey continued to follow the scar down his face, keeping her touch light. She had reached his chin, but she didn't want to stop. She recklessly followed the scar down his neck, eliciting a surprised gasp from him. He had expected her to stop at his chin, she had expected to stop at his chin, but she hadn't. She didn't want to.

Rey moved forward to reach Kylo easier. Slowly, carefully, she let only the barest tip of her index finger trace the crevice of her own making down onto Kylo's upper chest. She could feel him breathing heavily under her hand and she realized she was gasping for breath too. Reaching the end of the scar, she let her hand wander up to gently stroke a lock of his dark, thick hair. It felt exactly as soft as she had imagined it to be in dreams she had lied to herself about.

"Ben," she whispered, wanting to hear his voice, her name in his mouth, reassurance of some kind.

"Rey," he answered and his voice was steady and determined.

Before Rey knew what he was doing, Kylo was leaning towards her, teasing her body with the closeness of his own, making her lean back into the pile of blankets. 

Lying down, Rey's hand slid down to linger by Kylo’s waist through the gap in his opened shirt. Kylo—Ben was leaning horizontally over her, his knees pressing into her side while his head was near hers. Breathing heavily—nervously—he leaned over her to press his mouth on her bare shoulder.

"Rey, Rey, Rey, Rey, sweetheart," he mumbled into her shoulder and slowly began to kiss her upper arm with his huge lips. His attitude was hesitant, uncertain, waiting for Rey to push him off and give him a matching scar on the other side of his face.

But she didn't. She didn't want to.

In a state of shock over his actions, Rey was hyper-aware of everywhere his body was lightly pressed against hers: his legs grazing her left hip, his chest hovering over her stomach, his left hand brushing against her right, his other hand so close to her head . . . Not to mention his lips on her arm. 

Perhaps gaining confidence from her lack of rebuttal, Ben found the scar on her arm that one of the Praetorian Guards had given her—scabbed over, but it would be there forever—and enveloped it with his mouth. 

Rey felt him kiss the scar and then gently tease the hurt skin with his tongue. His touch was light and almost . . . sweet? Rey couldn't think straight. All she heard was a ringing noise and indistinguishable noises coming out of her mouth.

"Ben, Ben," she heard herself call out.

Kylo’s right hand found her left and wrapped his fingers around hers. He brought their clasped hands above her head and finally settled himself down on top of her, one of her legs trapped between both of his. 

Rey let out a contented sigh and found his hair again with her free hand as he continued to kiss her scar. She let her fingers weave through the strands of his hair as she stared at the ceiling of the Falcon in some combination of serenity and disbelief.

Ben's mouth left her arm with a loud, sticky noise and he turned to face her. His lips were red and wet, his breath quick and light on her face. His large brown eyes found hers and Rey saw what he was going to do: he was going to kiss her, on the lips. Yes, there he was, leaning in towards her and he was going to put his mouth against her own.

But even though he was Ben Solo and he had a soft, a good side, he was still Kylo Ren. 

So Rey turned her head to the side, a silent no. 

Because if he kissed her, Rey knew where this was going to end up. They wouldn’t be able to stop. And she didn't know if she could deal with the consequences of what would happen if she let him kiss her. 

Kylo stopped above her. Rey couldn't bring herself to look at him. She blinked furiously, refusing to let him see her cry any more than he already had. 

After a handful of seconds that felt like hours to Rey, Kylo slowly pulled himself off her and slid back into the corner where he had been before. 

Rey shakily sat up and looked at Kylo. He was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to forget the taste of her skin. 

But looking into his eyes, Rey knew he never could. 

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have," he said, his voice hoarse. Rey tried to ignore the tingling feeling all over her body Kylo's voice inspired.

"Neither should have I," Rey responded in a stammer. She cleared her throat and crossed her arms, trying to look collected. She could still feel the wetness on her arm where his lips had been. "We shouldn't have." She took a deep breath. “I think you should go,” she whispered, trying to keep her voice firm.

“You know I have as much control over this . . . bond as you do,” Kylo reminded her, struggling to find a word to describe what existed between them.

“I know.” Rey hugged herself, trying to make the feeling of Kylo’s touch go away. “I know.” 

Kylo’s hand fumbled around on the floor before finding Rey’s discarded blanket. He awkwardly offered it to her. “Sleep,” he suggested. It sounded like an order. He was probably used to giving orders now, Rey reflected dryly. “I’ll be gone in the morning.” His voice sounded almost bitter. “I’ll face the other way until I . . . go. It’ll be like you’re alone.”

“You think that’s what I want? To be alone?” Rey cried out, unable to hold her emotions back anymore.

Kylo looked at her. “I offered you everything,” he said in a quiet, very dark tone. “To never be alone again.”

Rey glared at him. So he was going to bring this up, was he? “You still don’t understand, do you?” she asked irritably. “That wasn’t the kind of company I was looking for.” She stiffly snatched the blanket from his hand and wrapped it around herself.

A look of hurt washed over Kylo’s features at Rey’s words. For a moment, Rey thought he was going to yell at her, but his face began expressionless once again. “Alright then,” he said coldly. He adjusted himself so that he was looking away from her. “Good night, Rey.”

Frustrated, Rey lay down facing away from Kylo and wrapped the blanket around her. She closed her eyes and internally begged the universe for sleep to come.

At first the ringing sound of silence drilled into Rey’s ears as she scrunched her eyes shut and stubbornly pretended to be asleep, ignoring the incredibly distracting presence of Kylo behind her. She could hear his level, regular breathing, knew that he was still there. A quick peek over her shoulder showed her that he was looking away from her—out the Falcon’s window, but he probably couldn’t see that, he was most likely looking at the wall of his quarters onboard his Super Star Destroyer—so at least he wasn’t watching her. 

Then the façade of sleep slowly started to turn in the real thing. Rey’s breathing become softer and she no longer had to squeeze her eyes shut; in fact, she would struggle to open them if she tried. Her awareness of Kylo faded into something in the back of her mind small enough to be ignored. He’d be gone when she woke up. 

Rey fell asleep.

Dreams . . . memories . . . Were they any different? They seemed to overlap in Rey’s case. Voices swirled around in her head . . . then formed into something more solid.

Rey was suddenly overcome by the all too familiar feeling of thick heat surrounding her. She was standing in the sandy Jakku desert. She was a child, nine or eight. A giant, sticky hand enclosed her tiny arm in its grip, but her eyes were on a grey spaceship leaving the atmosphere of the hot planet.

“NO!” she felt the words spill out of her mouth. “Come back!”

The bright sun’s beam intensified and Rey looked away, squinting. When she looked back, the scene had changed. No one was holding her arm and she was an adult. She was looking down at Finn in the midst of Maz’s cantina. 

“Rey, come with me,” her friend begged from the step below her, his eyes earnest yet desperate.

“Don’t go,” Rey begged in turn, her own eyes becoming misty.

Resigned, Finn looked at her sadly. “Take care of yourself. Please,” he said in a weak voice, before turning away and leaving Rey alone . . . again

The scene faded to black as Rey found herself looking down at the blurry outline of Han Solo and his son as they stood on a tiny catwalk together. Somewhere in Rey’s subconscious, her stomach twisted. No. She didn’t want to see this again. But her personal desires didn’t stop Kylo Ren from igniting his red lightsaber and impaling his father with it.

Rey screamed in agony as she watched the man she had grown to look up to fall off the bridge . . . then Luke Skywalker appeared before her. Stunned by the sudden change of scene, Rey’s hand reached to the bag hanging by her waist and pulled out his lightsaber. She hesitantly offered it to Luke. 

Examining his father’s lightsaber, Luke took the ancient weapon from Rey’s hands . . . and tossed it over his shoulder before marching off, leaving Rey standing by herself.

Suddenly, Rey stood in the burning throne room of the newly dead Snoke, the taste of ashes in her mouth as tears cleaned a path of dirt from her cheeks. Across from her stood Kylo Ren.

“You have no place in this story,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “You come from nothing—you’re nothing,” he quickly substituted, thinking of a better label mid-sentence. His face was sympathetic, pitying.

Rey choked on her tears and looked away from Kylo in shame.

“But not to me.”

Rey looked up, taken aback. Kylo Ren was reaching a gloved hand out to her.

“Join me,” he asked. 

At a complete lost for words, Rey stared at Kylo, confusion and hurt written all over her face.

His bottom lip trembling, Kylo moved two steps towards Rey, leather black hand still held imploringly out. “Please,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

Rey let out a silent sob as her heart shattered into a million pieces at that one simple word. She looked at the offered hand then back up into Kylo’s pleading eyes. And there was a part of her—oh, a large part—that wanted to say “yes” and take his hand. To stop being alone. But she knew she couldn’t.

Her face hardened by resolve, yet softened by pain, Rey reached her hand out not for Kylo’s, but for her lightsaber.

But he disappeared and Rey’s hand was reaching out to help Resistance members onboard the Falcon. She glanced down the ramp and saw Kylo kneeling on the salty surface of Crait. Her expression quickly changed from surprised to stern. 

Kylo Ren looked up at her. His eyes were pleading. He made the slightest movement to stand up, but Rey’s hand slammed down on the button that brought up the ship’s ramp, separating them once again, leaving her alone.

. . . Because that was what this cursed dream was about. All the times she had been abandoned or left alone. And Rey had had enough of it. She started to sob—hard.

She wasn’t asleep anymore, she knew she had woken up, but she kept her eyes shut as she hugged herself, letting out all the tears she’d been holding in. She could feel the ice-cold air of space and the ear-numbing ringing that went with it. She was completely alone and had never felt more like it.

Rey almost screamed when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer to him.

“We don’t have to talk about this in the morning,” Kylo mumbled in her ear. “It never happened.” A tear fell on Rey’s bare arm, but it wasn’t hers—it was Kylo’s.

Shaking, Rey found Kylo’s hand on her arm. She squeezed his hand with her own. She felt calmer in his arms—safe. Gasping for breath after her onslaught of sobs, she anxiously nodded twice.

As he settled into a comfortable position behind her, Rey closed her eyes, knowing that her dreams would be kinder to her while in Kylo’s warm embrace. She also knew that when she woke up he’d be gone and neither of them would mention this night the next time their bond connected.

Maybe that was the only way she could handle it.


End file.
